


Her Journey Begins

by rhodrymavelyne



Category: Dark Shadows - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 08:15:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4172520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhodrymavelyne/pseuds/rhodrymavelyne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Victoria Winters meets a mysterious stranger in the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston, who persuades her to go look for a job in Collinsport at Collinwood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Her Journey Begins

**Author's Note:**

> My own take on what convinced Victoria Winters to go to Collinwood. Yes, Jeff Clark is different here than he is in the actual series and the movies, plus he's appearing much earlier than he does in the canon. Daphne Budd is very different than she was in 'House of Dark Shadows', as well. This is my own take on Victoria Winters, too, though I'm being strongly inspired by her original character concept. Victoria's job is to be the Collins family archivist, rather than David's governess, or live-in tutor, at least at this point. I'm trying to really emphasize Victoria's utter adoration with the past, so the job itself is an extra lure. Yes, Jeff's suit was inspired by Nicholas Blair's. Yes, Nicholas may very well want his suit back. ;)

A group of girls, ranging from fourteen to nineteen, moved through the Boston Museum of Fine Arts. Chattering and distracted, most of them didn’t pay attention to the paintings, in spite of a half hearted attempt of their guide to draw their attention to them. 

Not so with Victoria Winters. She stopped in the circular room to stare at a young man, depicted in oils. His imploring eyes were lifted to the heavens, begging someone to save him. 

For a moment, it was as if another looked through those painted eyes. Knowing she was here, yet searching in the dark, trapped, buried, chained…

“Victoria Winters?” A man’s voice shattered the impression. Victoria started, as she turned to face the speaker. Intense blue eyes met her own, the exact opposite of the ones in the vision. They blazed with youthful passion and hope, spreading youth across the man’s face. His hair had a golden gleam in the dim lights of the museum, dazzling the eye. She marveled for a moment at what seemed an indescrible beauty, before it disappeared. Wrinkles popped out all over the man’s face, destroying the illusion of youth. The gleams of gold in his hair were mixed with a lot of silver. The only thing young about this man was his eyes. 

“Ah, yes?” she stammered, still a bit dazed by the illusion. The stranger was a handsome gentleman, even if he wasn’t young. The dove gray suit and gloves he wore were immaculate. His silver hair was perfectly combed, and he was clean shaven. “Do I know you, sir?”

“Not yet, but I hope you will,” the stranger said. The creepy speech was rendered a little less creepy by the gentle, almost wistful manner in which it was delivered. Victoria didn’t know whether to pity the man, or to run from him. “I understand from Ms. Budd you’re interested in becoming an archivist.”

Ah, he knew Daphne. Victoria had done some organizational work as a temp for Daphne Budd. The lawyer had most of her practice in a small, fishing village off the coast of Maine, but she often spent some time in Boston. Enough time for Daphne and Victoria to talk. During one of these talks, the young temp had confessed her ambition to become an archivist. She hadn't known exactly the word meant, but she'd tried to explain what it meant to her.

“I love old things,” Victoria had said. It made her blush to think of how open she’d been. “Anything that has to do with the past. It’s almost an addiction with me.” Perhaps she hadn’t made as big a fool herself as she’d feared. 

“I am,” Victoria said. A shy awkwardness had come over her at the stranger’s stare. It was so expectant. “Um, you haven’t told me who you are, sir?”

“I haven’t?” The old gentleman looked slightly puzzled, as if he wasn’t sure what he’d just said. “Forgive me, Ms. Winters. I get so muddled, sometimes.” One of his gloved hands reached up to the level of his head. A single finger tapped his temple. “You may call me Jeff Clark.”

That’s not your real name, Victoria thought. 

The old man’s shoulders slumped, as if he could sense her doubt. “Forgive me, I can’t give you my real name,” he confessed. His head rose, as he looked Victoria straight in the eye. There was an earnest innocence in his blue gaze. “However, you shall learn it, if you come to Collinsport.” His head dropped, as he added, “You shall learn all kinds of things, if you accept the job as archivist for the Collins family.” His last sentence came out as a mumble. “About the past and your past, in particular.”

“What?” The word exploded out of Victoria Winters, like a bullet. She stared at Jeff Clark, not really seeing him, but something intangible, a faint hope, which she’d carried with her throughout her childhood.

Victoria Winters had no family, none that would claim her. However, a check had arrived, shortly after she’d been deposited on a foster home’s doorstep as an infant. The check had been meant for her. Extremely generous checks had followed her, wherever she lived, for her upkeep and care. Those checks had been posted from Bangor, Maine. Bangor was very close to Collinsport. Collinsport was also the town in which Daphne Budd had her main practice. Daphne had been so kind, so solicitous towards her. Perhaps a bit too solicitous. Could she be an agent of Victoria’s mysterious benefactor?

“Could it be?” The words almost got caught in Victoria’s throat, they were so thick with emotion. She stared at this dapper old man. Old enough to be her father. “Are you the one who’s been sending the checks for me?”

“No, I’m not.” Jeff’s voice was clear and very certain. Something almost like pity gleamed in his blue eye, as he gazed at Victoria. “However, if you go to Collinwood, I’m sure you’ll find that person. The Collins family has all kinds of connections, which most people can’t draw upon.”

Oh, Jeff Clark knew the exact bait with which to lure her in! There was no question now, whether or not Victoria would go. Not if it was a chance to finally meet her benefactor. Perhaps to even solve the mystery of her past. If she solved it, she might even meet her family.

“What do I do?” she asked. Victoria could no longer hear the other girls chattering in the museum. It was as if she and Jeff Clark were in another world, cut off from everyone else.

“Take this letter.” With a fastidious delicacy, Jeff Clark removed an evelope from his suit coat. “Do not open it, though.” His blue gaze sharpened, becoming almost cruel, as he offered her said letter. “It is imperative that it remain sealed, until you yourself are at Collinwood.”

“As you wish,” Victoria said, accepting the letter. This was all very mysterious, but Victoria Winters enjoyed mystery. The name on the envelope read ‘Elizabeth Collins Stoddard’. 

A shiver ran down her spine at the name. Mrs. Stoddard, yes, Mrs., not Ms, was one of the richest and most powerful women in New England. She controlled Collins Shipping, which might not be as prominent as it had once been, but the name still carried weight. At the same time, Mrs. Stoddard never left the grounds of Collinwood. All of her business came to her. For as long as Victoria Winters had been alive, it had been so. Daphne had talked a great deal about Elizabeth, grumbled, actually, but it was respectful grumbling. Now, Victoria Winters was about to show up on her doorstep. She shivered, again. 

“Don’t worry,” Jeff Clark said. There was an anxious kindness to his words. “I won’t be sending you unannounced. Just take the train to Collinsport. The Blue Whale is not far from there. Ask for Maggie Evans at the Blue Whale.” There were red cracks in his blue eyes, as Jeff spoke. “She’ll take care of you. She’ll take you to Collinwood and introduce you to Mrs. Stoddard.”

The Blue Whale. It sounded like an old pub. Victoria got the impression Jeff Clark was well acquainted with the place, judging from his eyes. 

I’m planning to go off to a small town, to contact a strange woman on the say so of a man I’ve just met, delivering a mysterious letter I’m not to open. It’s like something out of a story. The craziness of it all made her want to giggle. She should be more cautious, but Victoria Winters had always loved stories.

“Very well,” she said, giving up any regard for the voice of reason yammering in an irritating whine in her head. She'd never been all that impressed with reason to begin with.

“Oh, good!” Jeff Clark smiled, showing very white, even teeth. Once more, Victoria Winters got the disconcerting impression of youth. “I’m so glad!” His hands, which had been twitching, trying to find an occupation for themselves, dove into the flaps of his coat. “Oh, I almost forgot!” The hands withdrew from the coat a much smaller envelope than the first. “Your ticket to Collinsport is inside, as well as a return ticket, should you decide not to accept the job.” He handed it to Victoria with a little bow. 

Victoria accepted the envelope, with a cowardly little trickle of relief. There was a return ticket, should this prove to be a mistake. 

“Well, I’ve done what I’ve come here to do,” Jeff Clark said, as he looked almost shyly at Victoria. “I’m very glad you’re coming to Collinsport, Victoria Winters.” He looked away, as his lower lip trembled. “We’ve been waiting for you for so very long.”

Before Victoria could ask what he meant, a voice interrupted them. 

“Vicki! Hey, Vicki!” Victoria turned, a smile plastered on her face. She hated to be called Vicki. Not that most of the other girls in the foster home cared. ‘Victoria’ was too long for most of them. 

Sandy, one of the girls from the group had come back. She must have noticed Victoria was gone. It touched Victoria, even if Sandy insisted upon calling her ‘Vicki’. 

“Victoria Winters, I swear, take you to a museum, and you act like a star-struck lover!” Sandy teased. “What is it about these paintings you find so fascinating?”

“Pieces of the past, you know I can’t get enough of them.” Victoria had learned not to be too serious, when she admitted her love for all things connected to the past. “Although, I was just talking to…” Victoria turned to introduce Jeff Clark, only to find he was gone. 

“Talking to who?” Sandy asked, coming up to regard Victoria quizzically. “The painting?” She gave the suffering young man the once over. “I’ll admit, he’s rather cute. Quite the pick of the painted people.”

“No! Well, yes, but no!” Victoria stammered, blushing. “The person I was talking to just left. I’m not sure where he went.” She looked around once more. There was no one she could see, besides Sandy and herself. 

“Did he give you those envelopes?” Sandy asked, looked at the envelopes in Victoria’s hand. Her smile faded a bit, as she looked at Victoria. 

“He offered me a job as an archivist,” Victoria said, trying to put as much reassurance as possible into her words. She didn’t like the worried look on Sandy’s face. “Daphne Budd recommended me. The job is in Collinsport.”

“Collinsport?” Sandy repeated. The worry didn’t leave her face. “That’s a bit of a journey, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Victoria said. A smile was spreading across her face, as she clutched to the envelopes to her chest. “A journey I’m eager to begin.”


End file.
